


I Am The Nightmare

by MaggieMaybe160



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Castiel (Supernatural)'s Trenchcoat, Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cuddling Castiel/Dean Winchester, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Inspired by Real Events, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Mutual Pining, Night Terrors, Nightmares, Pining, Sleep, Sleeptalking, Sleepwalking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-11-01 20:01:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17873903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaggieMaybe160/pseuds/MaggieMaybe160
Summary: Dean has been having night terrors and Cas is trying to help him as they become more dangerous.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [Jemariel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jemariel) for the beta.  
> The idea for this story came after swapping sleepwalking stories with [nickelkeep](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nickelkeep). We both decided to write our own twist on idea. [Her's can be found here.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18080501)

Dean stood in the middle of the road. His feet were bare on the wet pavement. He was wearing a thin black t-shirt that hugged his body and a pair of gray plaid pajama pants that he only wore for comfort after returning to his bunker after a hunt. His green eyes were half lidded, his gaze far away and glassy.

A car sped past him, making the loose pajama pants flutter. The water from the ground sprayed him as the car passed. He turned around in a full circle, as if lost and looking for his path. He took a sure, single step and stopped again. His feet were on the yellow line that ran down the middle of the road.

His hair, soft from the shower that he’d had before bed, moved gently in the wind. His face was pale, his cheeks bright red from the cold. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides slowly.

“Dean!” Cas yelled. Dean’s eyes opened wide, making him look shocked and maybe even a little scared. The expression forced Cas to stop walking toward him. “What are you doing?” he asked instead.

“I’m looking for Cas!” Dean shouted, his face suddenly angry. The silence that followed was a strange mixture of Dean’s raw anger and Cas’ complete confusion.

They were five miles away from the bunker. The Impala was safe in the bunker’s garage. Sam was still sleeping soundly. Dean was standing in the middle of the road yelling about… Cas?

“Go back to the bunker!” Cas yelled, frustrated and unsure of how to deal with the situation.

“No!” Dean shouted. He took a few angry steps toward Cas and stopped when they were toe to toe and Dean’s freezing nose grazed Cas’. Cas would have been lying if he said that a shiver hadn’t raced up his spine, his breath catching in his throat at the contact.

“You… don’t feel like you,” Cas said slowly. “You feel… Asleep?”

Dean crumpled on the spot, his eyes rolling back in his head and his knees giving way. Cas caught him before his head smacked the concrete. Because of the strange way that Cas was holding onto Dean, their chests were pressed together. He could feel the pounding of Dean’s heart against his. As Dean’s eyes closed, his heart rate slowed from marathon running speed to the resting speed of a sleeping man.

“Dean?”

Dean blinked a few times before jolting and accidentally shoving himself away from Cas, offsetting his balance and hitting the pavement with a thud. He looked up at the angel from where he was now sitting.

“Why are we out here?” Dean asked. His voice was shaking with the shivering that had taken hold. Cas hadn’t realized how cold Dean was.

“Can I take us back to the bunker or would you rather walk?” Cas asked gently. He had no idea what was happening, and apparently, neither did Dean.

“Walk,” Dean said, standing up. Cas shrugged off his coat and wrapped Dean in it.

Dean looked at the trench coat that was now adorning his shoulders and then at Cas, who looked practically naked in his suit and tie. Without a word, Dean slipped his arms into the sleeves and wrapped it closer around himself.

He would never admit it outloud, but as he wrapped it close to his body, his heart seemed to erupt in his chest at wearing a piece of Castiel’s clothing.

“Here,” Cas said, when he noticed Dean was still shivering. He buttoned up the coat for him, his fingers working too quickly, starving Dean of his touch. He tied the belt and his hands lingered for a moment. “Better?”

Dean only nodded and the angel’s hands fell away again. Dean followed Cas, unsure exactly of where he was. He wondered how he’d gotten there and how far away they were from the bunker. He didn’t voice any of his concerns, hoping that it all seemed rather intentional.

“What happened?” Dean asked after a moment, deciding that there was no way this had looked intentional given his state.

“I don’t know, Dean,” Cas answered, turning to look at him. “Did you sleep?”

“I think I fell asleep around midnight,” Dean said. He remembered showering, dressing for bed, and listening to music. The last time he had looked at the clock it had said it was 11:43pm."

“What did you dream about?”

“Really, Cas?” Dean half laughed, trying to brush off the awkward question. The angel looked serious.

“It might explain why you were out here,” Cas said, looking away from Dean again.

“So, if I tell you what I dreamed about, you can explain to me how we ended up in the middle of the street?” Cas only sighed in response.

“I dreamed about you,” Dean said quietly. The last word hung in the air without any other explanation. Cas’ face felt hot despite the frigid air. He also didn’t have an answer for Dean.

Not another word was spoken on the entire walk back to the bunker. They walked in just as silently and Dean plopped into the nearest chair. His hands worked at the knot in the trench coat’s belt, but he didn’t dare look at Cas.

“I’ll find an explanation,” Cas promised, sitting down in the chair opposite of Dean.

“It won’t happen again,” Dean promised. They both knew it was an empty promise. Dean finally looked up, meeting the gaze of the angel. He immediately regretted it.

Cas’ dark hair was wildly windblown and his blue eyes were intense, resting on Dean’s face. His eyes flickered from Dean’s eyes to his lips and back quickly. Dean dismissed it as a trick of the light.

Dean looked back down to the buttons on the coat as he undid them slowly, reluctantly. He stood, shrugging out of the coat. He draped it around Cas and turned to go back to his room.

“Did you really?” Cas asked softly, stopping Dean in the doorway. Dean turned to look over his shoulder, his eyebrow raised in an unasked question. “Dream about me…?” Cas breathed.

“Yeah, Cas,” Dean’s head dropped, looking at the floor in front of him. “Every night.” There was a pause as Dean waited for a response that didn’t come. “Night.”


	2. Chapter 2

The next night, Sam went to bed first. He yawned and closed his laptop, blissfully unaware of the previous night’s happenings. He wished his brother and the angel a good night, departing. 

“I should go,” Dean said, also standing. 

“I don’t know if it’s a good idea,” Cas said, grabbed Dean’s arm. 

The touch sent a bolt of electricity up Dean’s arm and he looked at the angel’s hand. He dragged his eyes away from the hand, up to meet Cas’ eyes. Neither moved. The moment was too thick with possibilities and unsaid things. 

“Are you tired?” Cas asked after the moment had gone on long enough. His hand fell from Dean and the air seemed to leave both Dean and Cas at the same time. 

“Say my name and I’ll go to bed,” Dean dared. Cas’ mouth shut. He pressed his lips together, his eyes locking with Dean’s. 

They stared at each other, both very aware of the bond that kept them tethered to the other. The longer they stayed there, inches apart and unwilling to move, challenging each other, the connection grew more intense. 

“Were you lying last night?” Cas asked, the whisper harsh in the weighted silence. Dean was quiet for a moment longer, contemplating whether the truth would hurt or help him. 

“No,” he said, deciding on the truth. 

Cas sucked in a breath and Dean looked down. He wanted to be anywhere but that room. Involuntarily, his name escaped the angel’s lips. Dean walked away. 

Cas deflated, sitting in the chair Dean had just left. He held his head in his hands, his elbows propped up on the table. He didn’t know what was wrong with his hunter but he was worried. They had silently agreed not to tell Sam. They would figure this out alone. 

The bunker was silent through as the Winchesters slept and Cas worried. Every half hour for two hours, Cas would leave his seat in the library and walk to Dean’s room to make sure he was still there, opening the door just a crack. Every half hour, he breathed a sigh of relief upon finding a peaceful Dean Winchester. 

The first time on the third hour, Cas opened the door, he found Dean writhing on his bed. His hair was drenched with sweat, his face screwed up in pain. Cas rushed to his bedside and could feel the fever coming off of Dean. 

“Dean.”

Dean let out a harsh groan that sounded as if his insides were being ripped from his body. His jaw was clenched, his teeth audibly grinding together. The sound came again ripping through Dean and hurting Cas. 

“Help!” Dean finally yelled. Cas reached forward. 

His hand had barely touched Dean’s shoulder when his hunter’s hands came up to meet his gentle touch. His grip tightened and Cas was reminded exactly how strong Dean was, no matter how fragile he had looked moments before, begging for help. 

Cas let out a yelp as Dean’s hands crushed the bones in his wrist. He twisted and there was a snap. Cas struggled against Dean’s grip and fell backward when he let go, crashing into the wall. 

Dean’s eyes opened slowly and groggily at the crash. Cas healed his severely broken wrist and stayed where he was on the ground. He watched as Dean sat up and took in a few shaking breaths. 

“Dean?” Cas asked, finally getting up off of the floor. 

Dean didn’t answer. He felt his own forehead briefly before getting out of his bed and staggering out of his room. Cas followed him down the hall to the shared bathroom where Dean vomited into the toilet. 

He waited, his face hovering over the porcelain bowl. Cas knelt down next to him and placed a hand gently on his back. Dean’s eyes closed at the contact. The silent comfort spread through him, warm and desperately needed.  

He flushed the toilet and stood up, Cas helping him with a hand under his elbow. 

“What happened?” Dean asked. He was still shaking. Cas didn’t understand why his healing wasn’t working on Dean and he tried not to let his worry seep through. 

“You had another night terror,” Cas said as they walked down the hall toward Dean’s room, shoulder to shoulder. Their hands brushed and while both urgently wanted to reach out and take the other’s hand, neither made a move to. 

“You had a high fever and were screaming, asking for help,” Cas said gently. Dean nodded, taking in the information. “I tried to help you and wake you when you broke my wrist.” Dean’s hand flinched away from Cas. To cover his movement, he brought his hand up to scratch his head. 

“I’m fine, Dean,” Cas said, glancing over at his hunter. Dean nodded, but looked sick either from actually being sick or at the idea of hurting his angel. 

“You know how I told you never to watch over me?” Dean asked as they reached his door. He turned to face Cas. He swallowed hard when he realized they were only inches apart. If he leaned in, they could kiss. “Will you?”

“I will watch over you, Dean.” Cas said quietly. Dean nodded once and went back into his room. “Every night,” Cas promised, repeating Dean’s words.

He followed Dean into the room. Dean brushed the acid off of his teeth and tongue with the tooth brush and too much toothpaste. He was practically foaming at the mouth with the overpowering smell of mint. Cas tried not to watch. 

Dean watched in the mirror as Cas went to the bed and changed the sheets. They were visibly damp with sweat. He tried to focus his eyes back on his own reflection, but couldn’t help but watch the angel working to make Dean a place to rest. 

When he finished, Cas stood to the side of the bed and waited. Dean rinsed out his mouth and walked over to his freshly made bed. He was too aware of his every movement as Cas stood close. He was aware of how thin his pajamas felt, how much he was moving, trying to get the blankets situated over himself.

“Do you want to…” Dean trailed off, unsure of what he was asking. Did he want Cas to sit on the edge of the bed or lay in the empty space beside him? 

“I’ll turn off the light,” Cas said, walking over to the wall and flicking the switch. 

“Do you want to sit?” Dean asked, just a little braver now that he was protected by the darkness. He stared, unseeing, up at the ceiling. Cas didn’t answer and Dean bit his lip.  

The bed moved as Cas sat on the edge of the bed. Dean let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. He moved over a little, making more room. Cas accepted the silent invitation and laid down next to Dean, his head on the same pillow as Dean’s. 

“You’re safe, Dean,” Cas breathed. “I’ll protect you.”

“Shut up, Cas.” Dean smiled in the dark. 


	3. Chapter 3

For the third night in a row, Sam went to sleep first. He left Dean and Cas in the kitchen, finishing their beers. Dean raised his glass in a silent “cheers” as Sam departed. 

They had all been talking about nothing. Sam was interested in a new book that was being released to the public in a few days. Dean was being a brother and teasing him about it, careful not to touch any subject that might lead to how he was feeling or sleeping. Cas was taking no side, but happily watching the Winchester brothers. Every now and then he would interject with a random fact to help either Sam or Dean, whoever needed it most at that point in the discussion. 

Now, the kitchen was silent. Cas spun the bottle in his hand and watched Dean as he stared at his own beer. There was one sip left that he swirled in the bottom of the glass. Cas got up and put his into the bin before returning to the table. 

Dean lifted the bottle to his lips and closed his eyes, tipping back his head and swallowing the rest of the alcohol. Cas took the glass from Dean’s hand when the sip was swallowed. 

“Come on,” Dean said, walking toward the door. Cas followed him without a word. 

They walked into the hunter’s room together, Cas closing the door silently. Dean went to the dresser and pulled out a pair of sweats and two of his t-shirts. He handed one shirt and the sweats to Cas. 

“What are these for?” Cas asked, holding them as if they were precious. They were, to him. They belonged to Dean. 

“Do you know how uncomfortable it is to sleep when there’s a trench coat and shoes next to you? Get changed.” Dean pulled out his own plaid pajamas and hesitated. “I’ll be right back,” he said, his face burning red under his freckles. 

“I’ll just… change here then,” Cas said, holding up the clothes. Dean nodded and left the room. He sagged against the door, closing his eyes. He took a few deep breaths, thinking of anything that wasn’t Cas getting changed into his clothes... in his room... and climbing into his bed. 

A few minutes later, Dean returned wearing his own pajamas and holding a bundle of jeans and plaid. Cas was sitting on the edge of the bed, his back straighter than anyone else’s would have been. The t-shirt of Dean’s that he was wearing hugged his muscles in a way that made Dean’s heart stutter. He looked away, dropping his own clothes into the hamper. 

Dean ran a hand through his hair before brushing his teeth. Cas looked over. He loved when Dean’s hair was sticking in every direction. He thought it made him look like a sleepy hedgehog. 

“Okay. Night three, here we go,” Dean said on one exhausted exhale. He switched off the light and climbed into his bed. Cas did the same, pulling the blankets up to cover them both. 

Their arms were touching beneath the covers and with Cas in only a thin t-shirt, their bare arms were actually touching. Dean closed his eyes and bit on the inside of his cheek to keep from thinking about it. 

“What do you think about while you fall asleep?” Cas whispered. Dean turned his head to face his angel, even if he couldn’t see him. 

“Night, Cas,” Dean said, avoiding the question and shutting up Cas in two words. 

Cas listened to Dean’s breathing slow. His body relaxed, his fingers brushing against Cas’ as they twitched. He turned onto his side, his head resting just above Cas’ shoulder, but not quite touching. His breath was hot on Cas’ neck. Cas couldn’t breathe. 

It was only a half an hour later that Dean’s skin was becoming unbelievably hot, and not in a good way. Another fever was radiating from him as he stirred. Cas wondered what he was supposed to do. 

Dean sat up, his eyes open. An ugly sound, like teeth grinding on souls, came out of Dean’s mouth. Cas sat up and put a hand on Dean’s shoulder. It didn’t seem to affect him. 

“Dean,” Cas said, trying to pull Dean back down. Dean shrugged him off as he stood. Cas grabbed his arm, but still it made no difference. 

Dean walked toward the door and stopped in front of it. He looked down at the doorknob and Cas watched from the bed as Dean reached out to it, gripping it in his hand like a child might: front facing with all five digits tight around the edges. He cranked his arm, wrenching open the door. 

Cas scrambled off the bed as Dean walked slowly into the hallway. Cas was saying his name and pulling on his arms as hard as he could without hurting him, but Dean kept moving at his slow and steady pace. His face was set, his shoulders squared. Nothing was going to wake him. Not yet. 

Dean made it to Sam’s room. He stopped, staring down the hallway with vacant green eyes. He stayed like that for a few, drawn out, seconds. His feet turned his body to face the door. His eyes seemed to be seeing through the door as his hand took the knob. The door was locked. 

Cas breathed out a sigh of relief and moved toward Dean to grab him again and try to pull him back to his own room when Dean broke the lock with a single, awkward turn. The lock made a horrifying and loud noise as it crumbled inside the door. 

“Dean,” Cas hissed. Still, he was ignored. Dean walked into the dark room and Sam sat up sleepily. 

“Dean?” Sam asked, rubbing at his eyes and staring at the looming figure in his doorway. “Dean, what’s going on?”

“I’m going to kill you,” Dean said in a chilling voice. Sam froze and Cas dove, grabbing Dean’s arm and not caring this time if he hurt him. There was a sickening pop as Dean’s shoulder dislocated. His arm hung oddly at his side as he rushed toward Sam. 

“Dean!” Cas yelled as Dean’s good hand wrapped around Sam’s throat. Sam punched his brother and scrambled away from him, falling off of the bed. Once he was out of eyesight, Dean straightened and walked back out of the room, past Cas. 

Cas ran into Sam’s room and crouched next to the younger Winchester. 

“What the hell is happening, Cas?” Sam asked, rubbing his throat. 

“He’s sleepwalking,” Cas answered. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” They stood up at the same time and looked out of Sam’s room. The bathroom door was open. Cas walked toward the bathroom. 

Dean was standing in front of the bathroom sink. With his good arm, he helped his shoulder back into its socket without so much as a wince. He leaned on the edge of the bathroom sink, his hands on either side of the basin. He was staring into the mirror, his face unreadable. He stood there, unmoving for a full minute before he blinked a few times. His knees wobbled, suddenly unsteady. His hands gripped the edge of the sink and he took in a few gasping breaths. He turned the water on and splashed his face. 

“Dean,” Cas said from the doorway. Dean looked over at Cas with worry and guilt plastered over his face. 

“What did I do?” 

“How long?” Sam asked before Cas could answer. They both looked at Sam sheepishly. 

“It’s only been three nights,” Dean said, drying his face and walking out of the bathroom. He looked incredibly tired, his face drawn. 

“I’ll fill you in,” Cas said. Sam looked him up and down, noticing for the first time that Cas was wearing Dean’s clothes. 

“Tomorrow,” Dean promised. He jerked his head in the direction of his bedroom and Cas followed him. Sam watched the two walk down the hall to Dean’s room together. The sweats were a little too long on the angel, the bottoms scrunched up around his ankles above his bare feet. Dean’s shoulder was touching Cas’ as they walked, personal space be damned. They walked in, Dean and then Cas, the door closing behind them. 

“You have a lot of explaining to do,” Sam muttered and went back to his own room with the now broken lock. 


	4. Chapter 4

Dean was practically asleep on the war room table, his face resting in his hand that was propped up by his elbow. Cas has been explaining the sleepwalking to Sam, but Dean was barely able to keep his eyes open. His head slipped a little and bobbed back up, to put his chin back into his palm. 

“That doesn’t explain the sweats,” Sam pressed. Cas turned a shade of pink that Sam had never seen before and Dean opened his eyes to look over and smile. 

“Dean?” Cas looked to his hunter, his eyes pleading for assistance. 

“I’m sorry. I forgot to pay attention,” Dean flashed a grin. 

“Tonight, I’ll try dreamwalking,” Cas said, ignoring both of the Winchesters. Dean sat up, suddenly very awake. Sam looked from his brother to the angel. 

“We never talked about that,” Dean said. 

“Oh? I wasn’t paying attention,” Cas deadpanned without looking at Dean. 

It was decided that once Dean fell asleep, Cas would enter his dream and try to find out what was happening to disrupt his hunter’s sleep so horrifyingly. Sam was to stand guard and make sure nothing bad happened outwardly. 

This time, Dean and Cas were the first to go to bed. Sam watched them both walk to Dean’s room and he waited. 

Inside the room, Dean tossed Cas the same sweats and shirt and turned again to face his dresser, pulling out his own sleepwear. He heard the soft  _ flump _ of clothes hitting the floor behind him and his cheeks burned. He froze, holding the stack of pajamas in front of himself and stared at the wall as if his life depended on it. 

The bed creaked, telling Dean that Cas was dressed and in bed. He was still frozen, standing and staring at the wall. 

“Dean?”

“Don’t,” Dean said, closing his eyes. He had meant to say  _ don’t look _ , but his throat had closed up. Cas looked away as Dean got changed hastily. 

Dean climbed into the bed and looked over at Cas as his angel got up and went to the door. He opened it and looked out. “Thirty minutes,” Cas said quietly to Sam before closing the door again and turning out the light. 

He situated himself next to Dean again. 

“Cas,” Dean whispered. Cas turned his head to look at Dean. He could see him clearly even in the dark. The colors were gone, but every line was there, drawing out the hunter who had his heart. Dean’s eyes were open and staring up. Cas could count the lashes as Dean’s eyelids fluttered closed. 

“I know you’re scared,” Cas whispered back. His hand found Dean’s under the blankets and he squeezed. “I’m here. We will fix this.” 

Dean nodded stiffly, his hand gripping Cas’ tightly. It didn’t take long for Dean’s hand to relax and for his breathing to even out. His head fell to the side, touching Cas’ shoulder gently. He rolled onto his side and curled up in his angel’s arms. Cas lifted his free hand and combed his fingers through Dean’s hair, closing his eyes and entering his dream. 

Sam checked his watch and hesitated, his hand over the doorknob. He swallowed, his eyebrows knitted together, and he pushed open the door. It was dark but he could still make out Cas holding Dean to him, their sleeping embrace looking more private than Sam had a right to see.

 

Sam heard Dean groan, “No.” He looked over and saw Dean’s hands tighten on Cas’ shirt front. His face pressed harder into the angel’s chest. Sam pressed his lips together in worry and waited. 

Dean choked a few minutes later and Sam turned to look again. His eyes were open now, wide and unseeing. Cas’ eyes had snapped open too, shining bright blue in the dark. 

“I am a monster. I have been and I will be,” Dean groaned. “I am the nightmare,” Dean promised. 

Sam felt lucky that he couldn’t see very well in the dark because he was sure that his older brother was crying. 

Dean shoved himself away from Cas suddenly and fell to the floor, his head hitting the wall. He didn’t seem to notice. He pushed himself against the wall, his eyes on Cas. He was breathing hard and let out a sob, covering his face. 

“Cas!” Dean screamed. 

Sam knelt beside his brother, but was shrugged off. He continued to weep, the tears coming fast and hot down his cheeks. Sam had seen him cry. Never like this. Sam went to Cas and touched his shoulder. 

The bright light faded, replaced with the human blue. Cas looked at Sam and followed his gaze to Dean on the floor, choking on his own sobs. Cas got up and went to Dean. He whispered his name and pulled Dean to him. 

Dean woke up in Cas’ arms, his face wet and his body exhausted from crying. He didn’t bother alerting anyone that he was awake. Anything for more time in his angel’s arms. Cas whispered very gently so that only Dean could hear, “It’s over.” Dean closed his eyes again and breathed deeply, eventually falling asleep once more. 

In the morning, Sam woke on the floor of Dean’s bedroom. His neck hurt from staying at an odd angle all night. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep. He rubbed his eyes and stretched his neck before opening his eyes and seeing Dean and Cas curled up on the floor opposite him. His brother had never looked so peaceful. 

Sam stood up and Cas looked up and away from Dean, where his eyes had probably rested all night. 

Cas gently lifted Dean from the floor and put him into his bed, pulling the covers over him, his fingers lingering on his hunter’s shoulder. He and the younger Winchester stepped out of Dean’s room and closed the door. 

“Is it over?” Sam asked, his hand working at the knot in his neck. Cas touched two fingers briefly to Sam’s shoulder and the pain melted away. 

“Yes,” Cas answered. “It’s over. For now.” 

“For now?” Sam looked over at Cas as they walked to the kitchen. 

“I can’t cure it. I can help it.” Cas furrowed his brow, trying to think of a way to explain it. When no more words came, Sam pressed his lips together and sighed through his nose. “It’s over for now because we… I killed it. Once it’s reborn, and it will be reborn eventually with all of his self hatred, I’ll have to help him again. For now, it’s over.”

“You love him... don’t you?” Sam asked, pausing in the doorway of the kitchen. Cas stared back without saying a word. 

“I will always love him,” Cas said in a matter of fact tone. He turned around and went back to Dean’s room to make sure his hunter didn’t wake up alone. 


End file.
